Bosses who Belong in History Books
by Unknown Souldreamer
Summary: The countries don't want to remember the bad times, but maybe the good times, they shared with their bosses. Sometimes even the best leaders are better off in history books. A Axis Powers Hetalia and Civilization Revolution Crossover. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: An Axis Powers Hetalia/Civilization Revolution Crossover. Both do not belong to me._

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_Bosses who Belong in History Books_

_Chapter One: Alexander the Great and Ancient Greece_

_The Mother to the Drunken Hero_

_332 BC _

_Outskirts of Tyre, Phoenicia (now Lebanon)_

"Ah…this is the life." When Ancient Greece heard her boss, Alexander III of Macedon, had finally captured Tyre, the largest city-state of Phoenicia, after months of siege, she had decided to pay him a visit. However, she didn't expect being treated like a queen the moment she step foot in his camp. Servants had dipped her feet in olive oil, massaging them as she was fed grapes.

An hour passed. "Now where's my favorite boss?" No one had told her of Alexander's whereabouts, only a nervous servant who stuttered out something along the lines of "He'll be here shortly." Shortly had already turned into an hour and as much as Ancient Greece liked to be pampered, she now had her suspicions.

It quickly turned into two hours. The empire was strumming her fingers on the arm rest of the couch of which she was laying on. She had already shooed the servants away, growing tired of grapes and massages.

Three hours later…and still no Alexander. "Whatever, I'll just find him when he returns home." Getting her belongings, she walked towards the tent entrance, when all of a sudden, a blonde, well built male burst in.

Instead of asking, "Where have you been?", like an overprotective mother, which Ancient Greece was not, she smiled at him in her relaxed manner. "Finally, you're here."

"Yeah, yeah, Greece, sorry 'bout that. Out late, with some of my generals. You know, the usual stuff…" Ancient Greece didn't notice the slur in his voice.

"Never mind that. I'm here to congratulate you with the victory-" She stopped short when she saw her boss sprawled out over the floor. "Damn it, you've been drinking again." She sat down next to him and put his head, face up, on her lap. "There, there, my drunken hero. Mama Greece is here."

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_A/N: Alexander the Great was known for his weakness to alcohol. Ancient Greece was laid-back and relaxed, except in battle, when she was terrifying. _

_I hope you liked it. OOC-ness and grammatical errors, please inform me. _

_Read and review, please. _

_Words: 470_

_~Unknown Souldreamer_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Julius Caesar and Ancient Rome_

_The Beginning of Reverse Psychology_

_46 BC_

In the year 63 BC, Gaius Julius Caesar was elected Pontifex Maximus, highest leader of the Roman religion. One of his jobs was the settle the outdated calendar. This job was completed 46 BC. The reason he took almost twenty years to do so had something to do with his growing republic, Ancient Rome.

"Hey-a, Julius, why didn't you name a month after me yet?" The brunette asked his boss. The dictator was sitting behind his desk, examining rolls of papyrus. Rome knew that he hated to be called that in public, preferring his last name over his middle one. [1]

"Because I don't want to, Rome. Could you please leave me alone so this can be finished before I die?" Caesar heard this from him at least twice a week, maybe even more, if the Senate ran out of jobs to give the young man.

Unfortunately for Caesar, the republic didn't leave. Instead he moved in closer and eyed the papyrus. "If you can name a month after yourself, why not me? I know the gods and goddess are more important… But could you please let me have some day, or week?"

_This guy never shuts up. _"Rome, if you don't leave now, death threats will be arriving at your house in less than no time. And you never know what will happen next," Caesar smirked.

The republic scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, Julius, here's the thing. If you decide to kill me, that's basically a mass genocide of your people. I am, after all, Rome. I make up the entire body that you run."

Julius Caesar face palmed at this. _This…republic…is an airhead who spends his time with art, food, music, and girls, yet he gets me to reconsider his death threat? Where does he learn this? _"Fine, if you give me a day of peace, I'll name something in the calendar after you."

"Okay!" Giving his boss a sparkling smile, he made a quick exit out of his office and more importantly, his house.

The next day, the official calendar was proclaimed, the new _Roman_ calendar. What Rome didn't know, however, that it was called the _Julian_ calendar for years to come.

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_Notes_

_1) The character Julius Root, in Artemis Fowl (by Eoin Colfer), is like this, too. This is a made-up idea that I found interesting to include, since they share the same name. _

_Words: 472_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three: Cleopatra VII and Ancient Egypt_

_It's the Voice We Women Hold Dear_

_41 BC_

_Alexandria, Egypt _

It was the winter of 41 BC and Ancient Egypt was outside her boss's bedroom chamber. She had heard the news from the locals, that Cleopatra had once again won over a Roman with one of her shocking entrances, and he was spending his time at her palace. Wanting to clarify with her what exactly went on, she waited patiently for her to come out.

But all she heard was giggling and laughter, and no opportunity to barge in. _If I do, I'll be poisoned for sure_, the civilization thought. It was common gossip that Cleopatra was the one who had her siblings murdered to secure a definite claim to the throne.

The imaginary clock in Egypt's head was ticking. She was slumped against a pillar, eyeing the huge door carefully. _Seriously, what makes her so captivating to these Romans? She wasn't exactly the most beautiful woman here. _Egypt was hit on, too, by foreigners, usually Rome, but she didn't milk it to excessive degrees like her boss did.

At last, the moment of truth came. "Mark, a scribe just told me Egypt is outside. Let me attend to her so we can get down to business without any interruptions," a sweet female voice spoke from inside.

_A scribe? I wasn't watching the door as well as I had thought! _Scrambling up from her sitting position, she stood tall and ready as her boss opened the large ingress and made her way towards her.

"So, Egypt. Did you need anything?" Cleopatra's perfumed voice was trying hard to hide her impatience.

"Yes, my queen. Rumours have been flying around, you see, about you and another Roman,-"

"Mark Antony," the Egyptian queen cut in. She then sighed. "Egypt, my darling, I am queen of such a vast land. And therefore I have little time. Make it quick, _now_."

That word sealed the deal as Egypt quickly said, "I just wanted to know how you do it. Entrance all these foreigners."

The queen laughed heartily, "Oh, my. You needed help with Rome? All you had to do was ask."

Ancient Egypt blushed. "What? No, that's not what I mean-"

And once again, she was cut off. But this time, she was ignored as well. "It's all in the voice, kiddo. Sound all sweet and charming, but in reality, you're there for help. Sure, you'll fall in love, but it will be to your advantage that you get what you want along the way, hm? Oh, and be clever when you're around him. Sometimes you have to give in, sometimes he does. Trust me, you'll have years of a relationship with that Rome if you follow my advice."

The empire was surprised and frozen in place at the same time. When Mark Antony began to call for Cleopatra, the young ruler walked away without getting any response from her. Before closing the door, she turned around and hissed to the statue, "Good luck!"

_I can't believe this. At all. _Egypt was a non-believer, but her face was still red as she trudged to the palace exit.

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_A/N: The last of the ancients! Next up is…_

_Words: 627_

_~These really are fun to write.~_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four: Saladin, Turkey, and Egypt_

_Your House is Now My House (but Not for Long)_

_A.D. 1174_

_Cairo, Egypt_

The Ayyubid Dynasty ruled many countries during the 12th and 13th centuries. Its first leader was a guy whose name is too long to write down, but he was known in the Western world as Saladin.

Now, amongst those countries he presided over was a young Turkey, who had decided to accompany him on his conquest of Egypt.

"So this will be the new capital, huh, my lord?" The masked teen asked as he toured the palace of the extinct Fatimid Caliphate. [1]

His boss wasn't paying attention, because he was eyeing a little boy who was hiding in the shadows, watching the two. He hadn't realized that he was being watched as well. "Turkey, get over here."

"Coming, boss!" He ran over to Saladin, who began to whisper in his ear. "That's the country you've taken control of? He's so…-"

"Young, childish? Basically, that's you, except shorter," Saladin smiled, watching the teen fume silently. "Hey, you there! Why don't you come closer?"

The little boy jumped from surprise at being caught, but obediently walked to his new boss.

"Why don't you introduce yourself to us? I'm Saladin and this is Turkey."

"I'm Egypt." He seemed to be the quiet type.

Turkey jumped forward, extending his hand, "Nice to meet 'ya! It's a pleasure to be in your cool city! Since it's the new capital, your house is now my house!" Egypt just stared at his hand for about a minute before returning the favor.

Saladin bowed his head towards the boy, offering his hand as well. "Likewise." He didn't wait for him to shake it; instead he turned around and made his way to the exit. "Turkey. Egypt. We have to get going. I have my sights set on Damascus, and I don't have all day for introductions. Come along." The cheerful leader had suddenly changed into one with a more serious demeanor.

"What? My lord, what about Egypt's house? This palace? Isn't this the capital of the Ayyubid Dynasty now?" Turkey was rushing to keep up with his boss, so he grabbed Egypt, who was intent on staying in place, out with him.

"Damascus, my child, is our capital. It awaits us!" Three horses were waiting for them outside. "Get on!"

And with that, a chivalrous boss, and his two countries, a flabbergasted Turkey and an irritated Egypt, rode off into the sunset.

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_A/N: This was one confusing chapter to write. If you want to know more about this, see the Wikipedia article on Saladin in Egypt. _

_Notes_

_1) Fatimid Caliphate - the ruling government in Egypt under the religion Islam._

_Thank you to those who reviewed._

_Words: 539_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five: Genghis Khan, Mongolia, and China_

_Even though you're Older, I'm still better than You_

_A.D. 1227_

_Xingqing, Western Xia (now part of northwestern China)_

Genghis Khan, with his land of Mongolia right beside him, stood proud as they painstakingly eyed the Chinese city they had besieged, Xingqing, on horseback. But while his boss remained forever silent, waiting for the exact moment to strike, Mongolia couldn't stand still continuously in one place. Every so often he would ask Genghis Khan, "Can we attack?" or "What about now, lord?"

The boy had reasons to be excited. It was China, his rival, who he would be taking a part of. [1] China, who lived for thousands of years, would finally be bowing down to his feet tonight! Even though he was the oldest of the Asian nations, he couldn't possibly be the strongest. Not forever.

His other reason: to prove his boss that he was 'strong'. Wearing glasses and acting a bit too hyper for a country, he wanted to show Genghis Khan that he was the ideal Mongolian Empire!

But all this took was patience. And more of it.

Luckily, before the day drew to a close, a shadowy figure emerged from the once heavily guarded city. China was huffing, exhausted from the amounts of paperwork, and upset at the fact that he had to give in to his younger 'brother', basically. "Aiyaa, here you go, Genghis Khan. The people of Western Xia surrender to you, aru."

The shady boss snatched the scroll from his hands, going through it carefully. "Hmph. Took you long enough."

Mongolia jumped off his horse and began running around. "Yes! Yes! Finally! One day, China, I'll have all your lands seized in the name of the Mongolian Empire!"

China, despite being disappointed at losing Western Xia, smiled at him. "We'll have to wait and see, Mongolia. I still am older than you, with a few tricks up my sleeve, aru."

"I'm still going to be the strongest Asian nation around! Just you wait!" [2]

With the two of them bickering like a typical love-hate sibling relationship, neither had noticed that Genghis Khan had ridden off back to camp, as he was complaining of chest pain. What Mongolia didn't know, until the next day, that his boss had died of an unknown illness, and left no remark on his empire's improving progress.

Mongolia's reaction to this: "Are you sure he didn't say anything about me at all?"

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_A/N: Now that I think of it, some nations will appear twice. _

_Writing with verbal tics is fun, no?_

_Mongolia doesn't seem to be a jerk. To me, he's a naïve, oblivious, 'I want to be top dog!', type of guy. _

_Notes_

_1) The vital regions term is not coined up yet…_

_2) This reminds me of Naruto…it just does. _

_Words: 553_


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six: Isabella I of Castile and Spain_

_With Queens, Compromise Always Takes Longer_

_A.D. 1492 _

_Alcázar Castle, Córdoba, Spain_

It was finally the day. Christopher Columbus was given an audience with the Spanish king and queen, to hear out his plans of traveling west to find the Indies. To the ruler, it was preposterous nonsense. But to Spain, it sounded interesting, and not to mention, the man was from the country of his friend South Italy, so he convinced the two to give the guy a chance.

Queen Isabella had already turned him down before. Multiple times, in fact. She didn't want to hear of the Italian's fanciful ideals another time. Sitting still on her throne, she looked straight ahead, but everyone could tell who she was speaking to. "This better be worth it."

"It is, my lady, it is," Spain was dressed in a combination of armor and silk, trying hard to stand straight as the guards outside. He was failing miserably.

Still the queen muttered something under her breath, "Italians…" Her husband, King Ferdinand, attempted to soothe her.

_Why must the Queen dislike Señor Columbus so much? _Spain was hoping that he would win over his bosses, the Queen more so, because it would improve relations with his dear Romano. _Maybe I could use his boat to sail to him… _The optimistic brunette shook his head. It wasn't time to think of his dreams.

A guard suddenly announced, "Señor Christopher Columbus of Italy has arrived for his audience with King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile, and accompanying them, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, our motherland Spain."

_How they do that on one breath, I'll never know. _

The three watched a middle-aged reddish-blond haired man walk towards the thrones. He bowed on one knee, "My king and queen, you should be fully aware of why I am here. The proposition…"

He went on and on, stating his claims and studies, his terms and agreements, etc, etc. Spain glanced to one side. The king was paying attention, nodding every so often, making a comment here and there, but the queen looked doubtful and dubious. Her face showed it.

Finally, Columbus finished his speech in a unique fashion, "I hope, my lord and lady, you consider this. You especially, Queen Isabella. This land is vast, but what lies there could be of an opportunity for you."

King Ferdinand opened his mouth, but his wife cut him off, "Señor, we accept. Please step right this way and we'll get to the signing of the contract."

Both men, king and country, gaped in shock. _What exactly is she planning?_

Hours later, after all was said and done, the two rulers were getting ready for bed, strolling up the winding staircase that led to the castle bed chambers. Spain ran in front of Queen Isabella, stopping her midway.

"I apologize deeply, my lady, for this interruption before your sleep. I simply have to ask," the Spaniard was speaking swiftly, sure to finish before they sent him to the torture chambers, "Why did you take Señor Columbus's offer so quickly?"

The Queen looked at him and began to chuckle. "Señor Spain, as Queen, I have to make the best decisions for my country. And I chose what was best. As you know, there is a long expanse of water between here and Asia, correct? [1]

"Yes, my lady," the country couldn't understand what his boss was aiming at.

"Then what that Italian said is false and untrue. He wouldn't make it there, with his calculations, so why continue to put up with his statements when you can just accept them and not expect his return?"

King Ferdinand and Spain couldn't believe what they were hearing. They had delayed Columbus's expedition for years, and yet the Queen could have said that anytime she'd seen him? _This is the true nonsense_, Spain thought. The two rushed ahead to the chambers, leaving the Queen behind.

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_A/N: One of the longer ones because I'm well acquainted with this part of history (not really; war history is more my forte). Though I do know a little Spanish (though some people might disagree). XD_

_Notes_

_1) Now, some people still believe that only Columbus knew the Earth was spherical (including moi, for a while). However, there is a list containing 100 or so names of rulers, theologians, philosophers, thinkers, etc, who believed in that theory during the Middle Ages. Medieval Christianity believed in 'The Earth is flat' myth. But by the 14th century, this had died out. This was the former idea in the story...until I was told byreviewer justtakealookatthis. Thank you very much. Now before I write something down without proper research and a reviewer informs me of my mistake, I'll hit myself with a stick. 0_o_

_Anyways, with this new edit, and research this time instead of just former knowledge to rely on, people did not believe that there was anything between Europe and Asia. Just water. If we were to look at this as if there was no N. & S. America, it would take far too long for Columbus to get to Asia. They (him and his crew) would all be dead by then, this we could assume. _

_Words: 978_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: An OC this time. Also, if you would kindly direct your attention to chapter 6, in which I have edited some text and speech. Much thanks to reviewer justtakealookatthis. _

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_Chapter Seven: Montezuma II and Mexico_

_Paranoia is Always Part of the Job_

_A.D. 1519_

_Tenochtitlan, Aztec Empire (now Mexico City, Mexico)_

Mexico was just sitting outside, on the palace steps, marveling her wondrous capital. She was constantly being moved from capital to capital, due to empires rising and empires crumbling, so it wasn't often that she was content where she was. _Will I ever just have one united country? _A quiet, yet mysterious girl at heart, she couldn't help but smile as the birds flew to the palace, landing on the steps beneath her.

Inside, however, it wasn't as peaceful. Her boss, Montezuma II, had received word that Spaniards had arrived on their shores, and was in the midst of panic. Scrambling up from his dignified Native American styled position on his mat, he shouted out, "Mexico! The Spanish are coming! The Spanish are coming!"

The birds, startled from their rest, began to crow and fly away. _Ugh…old man, what now? _Well, Mexico was innocent looking on the outside, but she had a temper and impatience to boot on the inside. Getting up, she ran to inside her boss's chamber, finding the man running about the room, commanding scribes and guards from all corners.

"You keep me updated on their status!"

"You organize our army in case of future attack!"

"You-" Noticing Mexico, he stopped his charade. "Oh, Mexico, you're a few seconds late." She rolled her eyes, and luckily he didn't see. "Word is that Spaniards are arriving to visit. So we should get prepared to the fullest."

Montezuma II was a great boss, this Mexico knew and upheld. He was almost a father figure to her...almost. But sometimes the guy was a little bit too much of a perfectionist, so she had to smack herself in secret every time she was pulled into his schemes. "My lord, what do you wish for me to do?"

Montezuma paused after picking up the stacks of scrolls lying around his mat to think. "Hm, Mexico, my dear, could you inform the cooks of our incoming guests so they make the best banquet possible?"

"Er…sure, my lord." A simple enough task, so she set off. She was already going down the stairs when she heard her boss say one of the things she disliked most about him.

"Search the dungeons and find the proper human sacrifice! The Europeans won't stand a chance against our gods!"

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_A/N: Mexico was full of many empires, tribes, and whatnot. But Montezuma gets to be her boss because the Aztecs were the ones in power back then. Plus, their capital is where her current capital is today._

_Mexico herself…I hoped you all liked her. It wasn't hard to write out her personality and such. Just like Himuraya-san bases characters on people he knows, I thought of my friends. Montezuma...well, I thought of myself and how I interact with my friends. As you can see, he's a perfectionist nut, so I must be one, too? I won't say. XD However, I just used Montezuma's cleanliness, etc. to make him into this kind of guy. _

_I'm thinking of a game, an interesting one, so you don't grow bored. If this story ever does have 10 reviews, or every 10th__ review, I'll grant that 10__th __reviewer a boss and country request. OC or canon Hetalia characters, I won't mind. However, I will not do current leaders, because it is simple respect. Now the game aspect of this: if the leader and country you want me to do is already on my list, you'll just have to wait for it, thus losing the game. But you'll have to wait anyways, because these 'extras' will be chapter 18 or something… The only reason I'm initiating such a game is because I've never had so many reviews come along before… =D Oh, and this will end when the story ends. Which is like 10 chapters. *e-gasp* Ending so soon? Don't worry, the chapters from here to then will be full of humour._

_Words: 788_


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight: Elizabeth I and England/Britain_

_Gender is Key…but Only for Me_

_A.D. 1570_

_London, England_

A blond, cynical young teen was pretending to read a pamphlet, but from the corner of his eye, he saw several of the senior members of government gossiping amongst themselves.

"The Queen is never going to marry, with the way she's acting," said one.

"Nor name an heir," added another.

England sighed at this. He knew how the Queen was, always playing tactfully with men's hearts for a few years, and out of the blue, breaking them next. But with not naming an heir meant that whoever his next boss would be was questionable. _Her Majesty is thinking of the good of the empire, this I strongly hope. _Closing his eyes, he began to think of the best solution. Several people, more importantly, Elizabeth's former and present suitors, popped into his mind instead.

In 1559 King Philip II of Spain was turned down, but he was considered still a pretty decent person in the English government. He maintained peace with her, but England was distrustful of him and Spain. _Sneaky bastard's looking for a way to get Mary, Queen of Scots, onto the throne._

Next was Archduke Charles of Austria. _Thank the Lord that Her Majesty didn't marry that arse…Austria was starting to get on my nerves, too. _Remembering that both religion and personality were the main problems in their 'relationship', he couldn't imagine being forced to bond with the musician.

And now it was Henri, Duke of Anjou. No one in the castle found him appealing, and England was constantly found groaning every time he visited. _He was French, damnit! Is that bloody wanker France is trying to appease me? It isn't working!_ Natter was floating around that the Duke had called the Queen several rude expletives, in French and English, so many were anxious that the arrangement would be broken soon. [1]

England was getting angry just thinking of all the difficulties he had recently. Elizabeth I, walking into the room, noticed steam being released from his head and came over.

"England, England. What's the matter?" She asked kindly. The redhead queen began to pat her empire's head in an effort to calm him down. "Is it because of my refusal to marry?"

_Her Majesty Elizabeth is such an intuitive ruler…. _Immediately England felt his fury subside. "Yes, my Queen."

"You don't have to worry about it. _I _always have it under control, even though I'm but a mere woman. God entrusted me this frail womanly body, but only _I _can use it to my advantage."

"You're absolutely right, my Queen. So wrong was I to doubt you," England stood up from his chair and bowed low to the ground, facing her.

"Now we must get going. Have you heard? We are expecting the Duke of Anjou and your 'friend' France in several days time. He has something to tell me," Elizabeth tried to sound optimistic, but evidently failed. Both country and boss were seen with disgusted faces as they were escorted out of the room.

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_Notes_

_1) Natter is an informal English word for gossip. _

_Words: 608_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine: Tokugawa Ieyasu and Japan_

_We are Patient Fools_

_Sunpu Castle, Sunpu, Japan (now Shizuoka, Shizuoka, Japan)_

_A.D. 1605_

The Asian man and his boss were sitting at a kotatsu together, eating a bowl of rice, along with some fish. It was a tranquil, calming scene, unusual to happen between countries and their leaders. [1]

After their meal, Tokugawa sipped his coffee while Japan donned his all too familiar apron and began cleaning dishes. "Lord, we're almost out of rice. Perhaps I should go get some?"

"Nihon, just wait. The prices are much too high for you to go out, anyways," the recently retired shogun folded his arms and assumed a meditating position. [2]

_The next day…_

"Lord, we're low on seaweed. The ports are selling some. So I'll get going…" Japan was making his way out the door when his boss stopped him.

"No, Nihon, you'll just have to wait for a few more days," Tokugawa eyed him wisely.

Japan inaudibly sighed.

_The day after that…_

"Please! My lord, food supplies are low. And the workers are in great need of it. The castle won't be made on starving people." The Asian country was restless and eager to leave. His mind was solely focused on food. [3]

But still Tokugawa prevented it. "Be patient, my country. If you wait, great things will occur."

More likely there would be a great number of complaints.

_And finally (we all hope), the day after that one…_

"Nihon! Where are you?" Tokugawa cried out. He couldn't find his country anywhere. Not in the kitchen, the porch, the garden…until he opened the screen door to his bedroom and found him, rocking back and forth on the floor. Shaking him gently, the boss said, "You can buy food now."

"Really, my lord? But today…the prices are way too high! The yen I'll have to spend just to get some salmon, some rice, some seaweed, shrimp…" Japan was hysterical. [4]

Tokugawa tilted his head to one side. "Yes, really. Although, I didn't know that the prices of everything rose…all I wanted was for you to be easygoing and relaxed."

The Asian country turned his back on his boss and promptly continued to rock back and forth.

* * *

_A/N: Just a chapter that has nothing to do with what happened during Tokugawa's time, only the fact that he is excessively persevering will be seen here. A change from the norm is what it is._

_Why is it that after I post my 'game' up, people stop reviewing? *wonders* Oh well, I hope you enjoy anyways!_

_Notes_

_1) Kotatsu - a low table frame covered by a blanket on which a table top sits. Found in Japan, though there are variations of it in the Middle East. _

_2) Nihon - Japanese for, well, Japan. Nippon can also be used. _

_3) Japan's talking about the Edo Castle. _

_4) Yen is the current Japanese currency. _

_Words: 583_


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten: Catherine II and Russia_

_Welcome to Russia's House!_

_A.D. January 7, 1796 _

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

"Здравствуйте! Sorry it took so long, Russia, but the snow, and the carriage…" [1] Catherine II trailed off when she saw all the commotion right behind her motherland in the large foyer. A Polish blond was chatting amiably with his Lithuanian friend in a loud Valley Girl accent, but what made it unusual was he was wearing a hoop skirt. Near the ornate stairwell in the corner was a busty Ukrainian scolding two trembling teens, a glasses-wearing Estonian and his shorter ally, a Latvian. And a Finnish youth was sitting on the stairs, watching the conflict beneath him, looking a tad lonely.

"Ah, General Winter again? What a shame. At least you didn't miss the dinner feast…" Russia waved his hand to distract the empress from the indoor scene. But then she notices a young Belarusian hiding behind him, holding a knife and staring daggers at her.

"Belarus…?" The beige haired Russian asks uncomfortably when he sees her, too. "Why don't you greet Her Imperial Majesty? After all, she didn't have to come today and could have just stayed at home. "

"You're right, brother. She and everyone else doesn't have to be here today. It can be just us…" Belarus laid a gloved hand on his arm, making the Russian flinch.

Fortunately, his boss found it in her heart to ignore the seemingly rash statement. "As you know, I'm Catherine II, Empress and Autocrat of all the Russias, and I'm here for your New Year's celebration," she said in a loud, proclaiming voice. All the other nations stopped what they were doing and lined up to properly greet her.

Except for Poland, who snickered, "Like, you're all a bunch of kiss-ups!" The empress and her country eyed him warily. In a few months time, he was to spend his time with Prussia, then Austria, and return to Russia again, but some were keen on him not coming back. [2]

"So this is where you live, Russia? I'm surprised at how many countries we've conquered over the years. But now you have one big, happy family," Catherine motioned to Poland, Lithuania, and Finland, the newest additions.

"Yes… All will become one with Mother Russia." An aura of fear appeared, stopping many countries dead in their tracks on the way to the Great Hall.

Finally, this time the empress noticed the strangeness of the setting. "Russia, could you do me a favour and not do that again?"

"Stop doing what, Your Imperial Majesty?" He was genuinely confused.

"That creepy purple air that floats around you…" Catherine made gestures towards the atmosphere. And still he remained perplexed.

"He doesn't, like, know about his own weirdness. Isn't that totally odd?" Poland interrupted.

"No…this entire group is full of eccentrics," she muttered to herself. _But at least they're not as bad as my family, _she thought, finding an urge to grin despite the craziness.

* * *

_A/N: The title is a parody of my other series, Welcome to New York!, which you could all read, at my greatest appreciation. Hehe…shameless self-advertising, but I digress._

_Catherine's family was, as mentioned, strange. Her husband and her son especially, were the more well known oddities. That is why she arranged a coup to take her husband, Peter III, off the throne so she could rule and placed her son in a far away place so he would never be emperor. Unfortunately, after she died, Paul did rule, but only for a short time until his death. Why do I know all this? Because I did a report once on her, my readers._

_Notes: _

_1) Здравствуйте!: Is the formal way of saying 'Hello!', at any time of the day, in Russian. _

_2) After the Third Partition of Poland, the independent country ceased to exist and was instead divided amongst the Russian Empire, the Kingdom of Prussia, and Habsburg Austria. _

_Words: 736_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Another psychology chapter. _

* * *

___Chapter Eleven: Napoleon Bonaparte and France_

_The Birth of the Napoleon Complex_

_A.D. June 1812_

_Near Russian Poland_

"Empereur Bonaparte! Guess what?" A blond, perverted Frenchman ran into his boss's tent. His army was awaiting his orders to be sent out into what was formally known as Poland and attack Russia, and were spending the remaining hours of the night in a temporary camp. [1]

"Does it have anything to do with the impending war?" Napoleon was leaning by a makeshift desk on a makeshift chair, his back facing his country.

France couldn't tell if he had been taking a nap or just passing the time, but he noticed the irritation coming from his voice. However, with his news, he didn't bother caring. "No, but I just found out that Jacques-Louis David made a portrait of you back home!" He exclaimed. [2]

"Monsieur France, do you think I really care about that right now?" The man sighed and took his pocket watch out from his waistcoat. "Huh, 9:30 PM and no response? It's time to invade Russia, then." He got out of his seat, arranged his bicorne properly, and began to stride towards the entrance flap of the tent. [3]

The blonde nation went out of his way to block him from leaving. "But, Empereur Bonaparte, the artist made you look _way_ short! I mean, compared to the rest of the room, you were the smallest thing there, other than the table, but that's beside the point-," He continued on, not aware of his boss's rising anger.

"What do you mean, short?" Napoleon's face was blazing red, highly insulted.

"Ouais, you really are! Seriously, Empereur, compared to everyone else around here, the Grande Armée, the National Guard, and my beautiful self, you are kinda the one that 'sticks out', if you know what I mean." [4]

His boss stared at him, wavering between strangling him, slowly and painfully cutting off his 'vital regions', or summoning a guillotine to his tent. Luckily for France, but not so much for the dictator, he decided against all three, and ultimately kicked him out of the camp, literally. "And get out!"

"Ouille!" After being sent a few kilometers in the air, and landing some yards away from the site, rubbing his stinging backside, France looked back at where his boss was, hopefully, de-stressing himself. "Monsieur, you have to learn to take a joke." [5]

Meanwhile, Napoleon was staring at himself in a mirror that he had just personally requested to be delivered to his tent. "Hm…am I actually that short…?"

* * *

_Notes (because as we all know, I hope, France is fond of using French more than English, so almost all of this is translations)_

_1) Empereur = Emperor. _

_2) Jacques-Louis David made __The Emperor Napoleon in His Study at the Tuileries_

_3) bicorn (or bicorn) = two cornered hat that is associated mostly with Napoleon. Monsieur = Mr. _

_4) Ouais = Yeah._

_5) Ouille = Ow._

_Words: 578_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just an FYI, all the OCs will be girls. Because Hetalia is lacking in 'em. _

_I don't say this often, do I? But anyways, thank you for all the reviews…they inspire me to keep on updating. _

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Shaka and South Africa (herein known as Zululand) [1]_

_European Technology is Full of Fail_

_A.D. 1816_

_KwaBulawayo, Kingdom of Zulu (Now Bulawayo, Zimbabwe) _

"These Europeans believe they can win me over with their way of thinking? Well, I say, pfft!" An African leader stormed into his large, majestic hut, carrying his spear and shield proudly. His kingdom, known those days as Zululand, looked up from her weaving and sighed.

_Why must they always bother my boss? It's a constant annoyance, for me and him. _Zululand had expected seeing foreigners enter the land, but not question the Zulu king about his taste in tools.

"I can find a million reasons why their thoughts are faulty, and ours are superior," Shaka ranted spitefully.

"I can, too, my lord," the young nation hissed under her breath. She didn't want to interrupt his rage, rather, she wanted to listen to what he had to say. But it seemed he was talking to no one in particular and only himself.

"One: Recording messages. What exactly is the point of that? If my messengers give me the wrong information, it's 'off with their heads' for them! And since everyone nowadays is 'up in the clouds', as they say, that's basically saying that all my men will die! How ineffective!"

_True. _Zululand nodded. _This speech should be given to all the tribes. It's so informative._

"Next: Their weapons. By the time a soldier from their army is done reloading his 'muzzle-loader', my men have already pierced him from every corner with spears! I don't need to hear 'twice the damage of a pointy stick', because that's clearly incorrect!" Shaka then went on in circles about how much he despised the Europeans. [2]

By that time, his kingdom was on the verge of falling asleep. _Didn't he say that already…? _

After running out of excuses, the African boss finally noticed her drooping in the corner of his home. "Zululand! Were you even paying attention? I was going to use this to boast our peoples' spirits tomorrow! I needed some reminders!"

Zululand awoke with a start. "My lord, my lord! I'm sorry!" And with that, Shaka once again repeated his rage-filled tirade, much to her dismay.

* * *

_Notes_

_1) The Zulu Kingdom later became part of the Union of South Africa, which was a predecessor for today's South Africa._

_2) 'Muzzle-loader' - another word for rifle. _

_Words: 521_


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen: Abraham Lincoln and America_

_When in Doubt, Don't Listen to Your Country_

_A.D. November 18, 1863_

_David Wills's House, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania_

_I feel like I'm forgetting something… _The 16th President of the USA scratched his chin thoughtfully. He was a guest in his friend David Wills's house, spending the night before giving a speech at the National Soldiers' Cemetery. And at his reluctance, an energetic and happy America came along.

"Having any problems with that speech of yours, Mr. President?" Wills was sitting adjacent to his friend and leader of the country. They were both situated in his office, with Lincoln looking over the rather lengthy piece of paper in front of him and his colleague lounging on the couch.

"Well, David, it just needs tweaking here and there, but it might be best if I give it to someone to read over." Wills was anticipating his name to be called, but instead, the lanky president called out, "America! I require your assistance!", making him a tad upset.

As expected, only a few seconds passed until a blonde, hyper country came barging into the room. "Boss! I'm here and ready to help!" Chuckles were heard from Lincoln, but an unamused glare was seen from Wills. As America couldn't read the atmosphere, this all was overlooked. "So… What exactly do you want me to do?"

Lincoln politely handed over his draft. "Read this over then and give me some advice on how I can improve it."

The happy nation snatched it from his grasp, eyes gleaming. "Really, boss? I can read it? Then I'll make it the best possible! Because… I'm the hero!" He left in a hurry, more optimistic than ever.

The attorney Wills just had to roll his eyes at him. _Mr. President sure does have some strange taste in friends._

In no time flat, America returned, breaking the door, somehow, in the process. "I finished!" Lincoln leaned forward, ready to hear only minimal critiques… "Boss, the entire thing's wrong!" Both humans gawked him through wide eyes. "I know we're fighting a war, but where's the happy ending? Or the heroes to come in and save the day? And where am I in it?"

His boss, despite becoming suddenly exhausted, grabbed back his speech with much fervor. In his calmest voice, he said, "America, we are fighting a war against slavery. Trying to be realistic is what I'm aiming for here. The Battle of Gettysburg-" He stopped midway, realizing that this would only fall on deaf ears. And besides, his country had already left, finding something more interesting to suit him.

Silence fell between the two men for a few minutes. "Mr. President?", Wills asked, breaking the peace, "If it's not too much, can I-"

"Yes, David, go right ahead," Lincoln gestured to the papers that were left unattended on the seat next to him.

_Glad you finally see things my way, _he thought as he took the papers and began to read them very, very slowly.

* * *

_A/N: And no, I am not mocking the Address or the Civil War. I'm just taking advantage of America's personality. For this chapter, it probably would be America who would have to go in the history book this time. XD_

_David Wills…a real dude. But it doesn't say on how he acted during the time; I could assume he and Lincoln were friends, or at least acquaintances. So I filled in the blanks!_

_Words: 648_


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: It's been a year, I assume, since I last updated this. My sincerest apologies. School and life has kept me occupied. Of course it's not a very good excuse… However, I have lost interest in writing fanfiction. This story will probably be finished first; the others, I'm not so sure.

Moving on… There are only a few more chapters left. Those who still read this, please enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Otto von Bismarck, Prussia, the German States, and Germany

Guess We're Now Brüder!

A.D. January 18, 1871

Hall of Mirrors, Palace of Versailles, France

It was perhaps the greatest day of Chancellor Bismarck's life: the unification of Germany. Standing there, in the beautiful Hall of Mirrors, amongst the various German princes, who were proclaiming Wilhelm of Prussia Emperor of the newly-made German Empire, made the aging man proud. Proud of all the hard work he put into these wars and these doctrines. After all, he was known for his "iron fist".

Prussia stood alongside him, dressed in royal finery for the occasion. Despite his usual isolation, even he decided to accompany his boss. Not just for the sake of the new emperor, but for the rumours that claimed a new nation was to appear, as well. _I want to see how this guy will match up to my awesomeness_, he thought. _I bet he'll be a wimp like the rest of 'em._

A procession of trumpets sounded and the ceremony began, with Wilhelm entering from the back and onto an elevated stage of sorts, soon sitting down on a lavish throne. Surprisingly, a teenage blond in a Prussian uniform followed, and stood to his side. He remained quiet and stiff, the perfect soldier. Prussia wondered if that was the new nation, and began to examine him. No smile graced his clearly handsome features, and his bright blue eyes were devoid of anything that spoke of a nation. _He must be the __König Wilhelm's lackey, then._

Wilhelm glanced in the Chancellor's direction. Bismarck, knowing his cue, walked to the front of the room, and began his speech, which was, much to Prussia's delight, short and simple. _We Prussians know that this diplomatic stuff is all so nonsensical. The battlefield is our true home, _Prussia smirked.

Bismarck then signaled for the German princes, and their nations, to come up for Wilhelm's crowning. Prussia, with his prideful ego, made his way to the front, cutting Bavaria, Hesse, Brandenburg, Saxony, and the rest of them, who started grumbling. "Now, now," Wilhelm chided. "I don't want any arguments. You're setting a bad example to our new empire!" He motioned to the blond soldier-boy to his side, who just blinked at the older nations.

Prussia's jaw practically dropped, but he refrained from shouting out obscenities in front of his boss. _This guy's an empire? What? _He couldn't believe it. Out of all the nations in the room, he was the most epic, and the best always deserved the highest positions, right? So why was he proclaiming this _kid_ an empire? It simply wasn't fair, in his opinion.

The silver-haired country had a surly demeanor for the rest of the ceremony, especially when the crown was placed on Wilhelm. Prussia looked back at the blond, and saw that his eyes had changed. There was power glowing in them now. _He can't be more awesome than me! He just can't!_

For all political affairs, there was an after-feast scheduled, this one a grand eatery, with exotic foods and flavors. Wilhelm sat on the far right corner, in his special chair. The German Empire, now named Germany, was on one side; Bismarck on the other. Prussia, ignoring the seating placement, sat next to Germany, earning glares and evil looks from his boss. _I just have to check this guy out, boss! _Prussia's eyes pleaded. Bismarck only sighed in return.

Germany was still as serious as ever, even after becoming an empire. In order to break the awkward silence, Prussia elbowed him, and said, "Hey, I'm the amazing Prussia! How does it feel like to be the German Empire?" From the background, Bismarck face palmed.

Germany barely looked up from his meal, and only stopped for a second to grunt, "Fine."

_He's not much of a talker… _"Don't get cocky with me. I'm still the best, and you better know it!" He stood up from the table, attracting the looks of many, and struck a pose. Germany didn't notice, as he was in the process of eating wurst.

Bismarck took this chance to whisper something in Kaiser Wilhelm's ear, with the royal nodding, although somewhat reluctantly. Wilhelm then murmured something to Germany. Prussia, feeling left out and ignored, dejectedly sat back down.

A moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder. "_Ja_?"

It was Germany. He coughed, uncomfortably. "Erm… Kaiser Wilhelm and Chancellor Bismarck have just informed me that you're my _bruder_."

"Huh?" Prussia was shocked. _Brother? Since when…._ He looked to Bismarck for answers, but his boss was in a heated discussion with Saxony.

"They also said that since we're related, you're in charge of my… training?" Germany was confused by this bit.

"Oh! I understand! C'mon, _bruder_!" Prussia yanked Germany by his collar and pulled him towards the door. "You need to be the perfect empire! They're counting on me, _me_!" He was in bliss, to be trusted by both his boss and the Kaiser, with such an important task.

When the two were gone, the Kaiser looked at Bismarck quizzically. "I still doubt this training of Prussia's will leave the desired effect."

"Well, even if it doesn't," the Chancellor smiled, "Germany just needs a little Prussian influence from his _bruder_, don't you think?"

* * *

A/N: It was never really stated if Prussia knew he was Germany's brother right from the start. Maybe it was like a Canada-America sort of relationship.

_Translations_

Brüder – brothers

Bruder – brother

Ja – Yes

Kaiser - Emperor


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Of course, Gandhi is not really India's boss. Before Indian independence from Britain in 1947, they had a Governor-General who was head of British administration there. The Governor-General during the time frame of this chapter was Edward Frederick Lindley Wood, 1st Earl of Halifax, otherwise known as The Lord Irwin. So India is just visiting Gandhi on behalf of her boss.

* * *

Chapter 15: Mohandas Gandhi and India

For your Country or for your Boss?

March 5, 1930

Sabarmati Ashram, India

_Do your best to persuade him, dear India. _Said country was dwindling her thumbs as her car made its way through the suburban Ahmedabad, with her boss's last request ringing in her ears. Despite having grown from a state, to a kingdom, to an empire, everything in between, and finally, a country not yet independent, she was rather nervous to meet _him_. Monhandas Gandhi. Her boss, The Lord Irwin, spoke about him with disgust. But she was curious. Who was this man, who spoke of these words, freedom and justice? They were such foreign words to her, for almost three hundred years.

The Lord Irwin had refused to meet him, so she was assigned the duty. Her job was to convince him to end this "salt protest." "He's just another petty protester," he said. "But I want him dealt with… English style." He meant nonviolent and lady-like, as it was too much of a burden to bother with any other way.

Her car finally stopped in front of a large estate. Plants sprung out over the gates, and between the floral was a simple house. _That's my destination. _The door opened, and she made her way out and onto the pavement. Two lean bodyguards followed her, but she held her arm out to prevent them from continuing. "_Nahi_, Kumar, Vishay. Just stay by the car."

She walked up the lawn, noting the neatness and tidiness of it all. Making her way up a short flight of stairs, she knocked once on the door. No answer. She knocked again, and still no answer. She was about to leave and find him out back, when she noticed an elderly, thin man sitting on a rocking chair. The man offered out his hand. "_Namaste_," he spoke, in a serious manner, "You must be India."

She took his hand, shook it, and nodded. "_Ji haa_. And you must be Mohandas Gandhi."

"Yes, I am he. You've come from The Lord Irwin, correct?" He was all business with her, no jokes, only a contemplative manner.

She nodded again. "You're quiet for a country," Gandhi noted. "There is news about the others… particularly Britain. More talkative than you. Have you ever seen him?"

She blushed, slightly. India had known Britain since he took her for himself three centuries ago. Rarely, he had come to visit, with all this talk of World Wars, but before, they were good friends. _I wonder what is happening where he lives… _Her mind quickly shifted back to her task. Was Gandhi attempting to distract her? "Sir… That is not the reason why I'm here." She opened her briefcase and pulled out a few papers. "I have come on behalf of The Lord Irwin, and for the good of the Indian people, to dissuade you from-"

Gandhi completed her sentence, "Ah. The Salt March. What does your boss know about the people, or more importantly, your people? The Viceroy is only here on behalf of Britain." He took the paper from her and began to read it.

India sweat dropped. _He wasn't supposed to read it! I was supposed to read it to him, in the nicest way possible. My boss wouldn't be so happy about this…_

After a few minutes, Gandhi looked up, with a bored expression on his face. "This is the letter I sent him, with a lengthy attachment. He could've just said no."

She blinked. _He didn't get mad? _Her job was looking quite easy now. "Well, sir, all I'm trying to say is that you stop The Salt March."

Gandhi ignored her. He got up, made his way past her, and opened the door to his house. Calling inside, he said, "Sanjay! Lais! Kavi! Tell everyone to get ready."

Immediately India started panicking. _This is definitely not what The Lord Irwin intended… _"Sir, if you please just listen to me..."

Gandhi stopped his commands, and looked at her. "India. Tell me. Who were you before Britain came?" He didn't bother waiting for her response. "You were a free India. Now you are you now?"

Still no time to respond. _This guy… he must really think I'm quiet._

"You are still India… but not free anymore. Don't you want your old life back? Choose wisely."

It never occurred to her before. For centuries she was under Britain's rule, speaking his language, wearing his people's type of clothing. Even drinking his tea. Like a proper English lady. She wasn't British, and never would be. She was India, and forever India she would be. Gandhi, in his own eccentric way, was right. She deserved freedom.

But then again… her boss was going to be rather upset at her default. There wasn't anything she could do to stop him. _Oh well. The Lord Irwin will get his report about how I attempted, but failed to stop him. _It was the only option. "_Ji Namaste_."

India left without another word. She made her way towards her car, where her bodyguards were waiting. Just as she was about to enter, Gandhi called out to her. "India!"

She turned around. "Yes, sir?"

"You chose correctly," the old man smiled.

* * *

A/N: Not really a humor chapter… more of a touching one, in my opinion.

_Translations_

Nahi – No

Namaste – Hello or Goodbye, depending

Ji haa – Yes, sir

Ji Namaste – Goodbye, sir (in this case)

...

I noticed I'm using more native words in my chapters… correct me if I'm wrong, my dear readers.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Mao Zedong and China

Ping-Pong is the Way to Go

April 1971

Beijing, China

"This is perhaps the most intense moment in ping-pong history. US player Glenn Cowan and Chinese player Zhuang Zedong are vying for gold here in this neck-to-neck competition…" An announcer boomed over the intercom. Two men were a few feet away from the court, both eyeing the match with keen interest.

"I might even call this a pivotal moment in Sino-American affairs," Mao Zedong chuckled to himself.

"Agreed, Chairman. Who knew ping-pong could be worked into politics?" His country, China, kept his gaze on the game in front of him. "Heh. America's Mr. Cowan isn't such a bad player himself."

"But our Zedong will always be better!" The two said in unison.

Nearby, a loud voice shot out, "Hey! America is always number one!" America even took the liberty of standing up, flashing a huge smile, and sticking a thumbs-up in their direction.

"Nu-huh!" China stuck his tongue out.

"China, keep it classy," Mao scolded. He then turned around, looked America straight in the eye, and said, simply, "China has been around much longer than you have, and so he's number one. Plus we have better food."

That set America off, and several guys had to restrain him. "C'mon he insulted my food!"

"Oh, Chairman, why did you have to do that?" China sighed.

"It is true. I tried a hamburger for the first time a few days ago. Noodles are much more satisfying than that cow-sandwich."

"But this we're trying to get along with America, not piss him off."

"Language, China. I'm merely stating my opinions."

The country groaned. His boss was impossible, a real great wall. There was nothing he could do to change his mind. So he tried to shift his focus back to the game, only to find the players missing from the table. "Where did Cowan and Zedong go?"

The two players had paused their game and were now leaning over the railing to calm the fighting. "We were trying to play a nice, friendly game, but we couldn't help but notice two countries arguing in the stands," Cowan smirked.

"Arguing over which one is better," Zedong added.

China was about to open his mouth and correct them, that it was his boss that had started the entire thing, but Mao stopped him. "Let's hear what these boys have to say."

"This is the ping-pong diplomacy, right? So me and Zhuang figured that the best way to make friends, or be friends again, in your cases, is to play ping-pong!" Cowan smiled at the two, as if that really was the best solution.

"I agree with Mr. Cowan. How about it, China? Ready to compete against America?"

Once more, China did not have a choice. If it was the only way, it was the only way. And arguing with his boss was never a good idea.

…

After the game, the two nations were panting heavily. Like Cowan and Zhuang, it was neck-to neck. Until the announcer decided, two hours later, that enough was enough.

"Hey, China, good game," America offered his hand up, and China reached to shake it, but the blonde pulled away, laughing, "No, man, you gotta high-five it!"

China slapped his hand, laughing as well. "Sorry about my boss, America. He can be a bit… difficult at times."

"It's no big deal! He hasn't tried a personally cooked American-style hamburger." America motions for one of his chefs. "Can you make me a dozen of your best burgers?"

The chef bows, "Of course, Mr. America."

Minutes later, a steaming plate of burgers is placed by the court. "Mao Zedong, in honor of our newfound friendship, I'd like to give to you some American cuisine. Hope you find it to your liking." America hands him over one.

Guess America can be polite when he wants, China thought. He stared at Mao, wondering if he would change his opinion of American food.

"This is… excellent! Splendid! Truly just as good as our Chinese food," Mao exclaims. America cheers in response.

But an hour later, when China and Mao were being driven home to their Beijing palace, the Chairman confesses his true feelings.

"America is a nice country. He really is. You should play ping-pong with him more often. His food, on the other hand, is terrible."

"Blame England." There is never any point in trying to change the "Great Wall of China."

At least their friendship was back on track. Ping-pong, not burgers, was the way to go.

* * *

A/N: After reading Cowan and Zedong's story on Wikipedia, I just had to include them here. Such a great story.

I also just had to do ping-pong for China. It makes me think of Forest Gump.

One more chapter to go! Thank you to those who stuck with me so far! And I hope to get it done within this week!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Not following the canon, since there is really no definite time when Chibitalia became Italy, and so forth. In this chapter, he is a teenager, a few years out of puberty. He had multiple bosses during this time, too, and one of them was the Doge of Venice. His was influenced and somewhat owned by Austria, so Italy moves around frequently.

An extra chapter for Yumi loves the darkness, who was my tenth reviewer.

The chapter title is a parody of a certain Dubstep song... And while I don't really like Dubstep, I did like this song. Whoever guesses gets a cookie.

* * *

Chapter 17: Ludovico Manin and North Italy

Raise Your White Flag!

May 1797

Venice, Italy

"Italia, Italia, hurry up and bring me the white cloth!" Doge Ludovico shouted. He was sitting on his golden throne at the grandeur Doge's palace, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Ve, ve, I'm coming, sir!" Italy's voice was heard in the hallway. The youthful and cheerful nation was practically tripping over his feet carrying rolls and rolls of white cloth. When he arrived in the throne room, he attempted to bow to his boss, and ended up falling flat on his face.

Ludovico sighed. "Now is not the time to fool around, Italia. Napoleon," he shuddered at the sound of his name, "and his French army are coming in a few days time. They expect an answer! We don't have a minute to waste!"

"Boss, if we try, we can surely finish our project!" Italy smiled optimistically.

His boss did not respond; he had turned his back on his country and had found other people to yell at. "You, bring me the thread! Bring me the wood!"

When all the materials were gathered, their "project" began. Ludovico, being a leader of the city-state of Venice, decided he was best suited not as a "designer" but as a "motivator". He started yelling at all his soldiers and maids and Italy whenever they slacked off.

For Italy's case, this was very often, as he was dead-set on a daily schedule he followed religiously. Several times a day, usually after a big meal, he would lie down in the middle of all the white cloth and wood and thread and take a siesta.

Eventually the Doge stopped bothering to yell at him; the effort was pointless, and the boy continued to sleep despite the screams and pokes he received.

And finally, the day arrived – May 12, 1797. They surprisingly managed to finish their project, andItaly, even more shockingly, was able finish one of them. It was, all in all, great effort.

Ludovico had all his men line up along the outside doors of the palace, awaiting France's arrival. He and Italy had taken to the front of the line, and the two were staring at the sparkling blue water in silence.

…

France and Napoleon were to enter via ship, along with their large fleet. "So, Napoleon, do you expect another fight from little Italy and Venice?" France laughed.

His boss, a short but intimidating man, gave him a condescending glance and turned away. "Expect the unexpected. Always. This Italy is one of the grandsons of the great Roma, correct?" France nodded. "And he hasn't surrendered yet. Tell the rest of our men to bring their weapons, just as a precaution."

Minutes later, they docked right in front of the Doge's Palace. "Ah, Napoleon Bonaparte, what a pleasure to finally meet you!" Ludovico approached the younger man and shook his hand. "You have been patient, and for that, I thank you. We, the people of Venice and I, have our answer. It's a lovely surprise."

He looks at his men. "Alright, in 3… 2… 1… Now!"

Napoleon raised his weapon, but France stopped him. "Oh, monsieur, we got worked up for nothing."

Italy and the soldiers were crying in terror, waving their "I surrender!" white flags.

This truly was unexpected.

**The End**

Thank you to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/following/whatever! I haven't been the most reliant updater (I suck, sorry), but I'm grateful for the response.

Thanks again, guys!

This story is complete at last!


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